I had set up the ritual group teleportation spell and here we were in Serinesma, the Southernmost province of the Westrion Republic. The investigation would be primarily under the authority of Intermediate Mage Genner.

  She drove us to the site of the body, letting me ride shotgun as the only other Mage of Intermediate rank. We were just the initial assessment team, ready to call in more powerful Mages if the need arose. I had teleported myself along with her, Nalei, and Milo, down to the local Enforcer station. Milo pointedly ignored me the whole time, of course, but Genner was professional and Nalei even acted warmly.

  This place was enough of a backwater to only have one reporting Biralei, another Rudimentary Mage named Emry. He referred us to a local forensic specialist who was a licensed magic user.

  He introduced himself as Dr. Jun Hins; licensed magic users didn’t take the name Biralei. Licensed magic users were authorized to use magic for specialist government roles, but if any of them had any real magical talent they would have been taken to become full Mages as recruited Biraleis.

  It was a disappointing showing for an initial force. I had known, intellectually, that the incident had been labeled a likely copycat killing and that many Mages were engaged in tracking and investigating other incidents. Still, seeing the reality of our meager task force made the knowledge tangible.

  I had heard Nalei’s talents were good, but Milo was famously lax in his studies and Emry didn’t even really have Mage-level talent. He was only trained as a Mage because he was born into the Biralei family, yet his talent wasn’t any more than the average licensed magic user. Even with all five of us, Genner and I were the only Intermediate Mages.

  Genner apparently shared my worries, because she spent the entire drive over to the crime scene briefing and even quizzing us on the facts of the case.

  “Our mission today potentially involves the Cult of Tyrants,” she told us after we grabbed Dr. Hins. “Who we should all know about from our training. Milo, could you tell us all about the Cult of Tyrants?”

  Milo winced. The question was a painful display of how useless Genner expected him to be. I tried not to smirk.

  “The Cult of Tyrants are a dangerous terrorist group,” he said. “We’ve been trying to track them through a series of murders this year. It’s basically the main priority of the entire Division. We’ve been sent to check out this new body to see if it might be them, or if it’s some weird mundane copycat killer.”

  “That’s a decent introduction,” Officer Genner said, giving a neutral nod. “Nalei, do you have anything to add to that?”

  Nalei straightened, her voice taking on a sing-song quality of studied expertise all too familiar to me. Those of us recruited rather than born into the Biralei family knew we had to earn our positions, unlike Mages like Milo.

  “The Cult of Tyrants call themselves the Heirs of the Trust of Raxolas,” Nalei said, “so any reference to ‘the Heirs’ or ‘the Heirs of the Trust’, it’s them. They’ve killed at least six people this year alone; they seem to be increasing their murders. The Cult includes many powerful, trained Mages and they’re the most dangerous terrorist organization in the country.”

  She hesitated, before adding: “Shouldn’t there be more of us, if we’re dealing with the Cult of Tyrants?”

  “We’re only the initial investigation,” Officer Genner said. “Remember, it may not really be the Cult. The body is a couple days old, and it’s a goat. There isn’t any magical energy to be harvested in animal sacrifices, the Cult knows that; all of their previous victims have been human. It isn’t even close to their last sighting, but we don’t know the range of their teleportation abilities.” She sighed in frustration. “We’d write it off as a prank, but photographs of the site show carvings that match runes only the Cult uses.”

  I nodded along, secretly relieved to be safe from proving myself in this impromptu interrogation as an Intermediate Mage. I always tried to have the best answers to prove myself in class, but it was restful to not have so much to prove.

  “Couldn’t a copycat killer just mimic the runes of the cult?” Dr. Hins asked.

  I actually twisted around to stare at him, wondering why he would ask such a basic question, before I remembered he was only a licensed magic user. All a license requires is two years of coursework, a background check, and a government job, so he didn’t have anywhere near the in-depth magical understanding of a full Mage with eight or more years or training and at least one ingrained magical ability.

  “Emry, my understanding is that you sent in the initial report, and were the one to mark the runes,” Officer Genner said. “It was good work. Maybe you could explain more on why the specific runes are important?”

  “Uh, yeah, of course,” Emry said, blinking. He seemed startled to be asked, and his voice was nervous even as he explained the basic magical concept. His speech was a little breathy, with a notable nasal tone. “Runes are distinctive, and they vary widely by culture, practice, and person. The Cult of Tyrants is really secretive and the Mage Division never reports any of their magical methods to the outside world, so no one but the Cult itself should have knowledge of them.”

  “So we have to go check out a days-old dead goat,” Dr. Hins muttered. “Great. We’ll have to cast a re-creation spell before even getting started. Anyone here familiar with time or biological augmentation magic?”

  “I had a study focus in Spacetime Magic,” I offered, happy to show my use on the missions. “I can cast time spells safely, mostly ritually.”

  “And I had a focus in Healing and biological Alteration magic,” Nalei said.

  Milo scowled. It didn’t look like his focus on Mental magic would be of any use here. I let my face settle into a calmly smug expression. Alteration, Conjuration, Spacetime, and Mental magics were the four main schools of magical study, with a number of subschools and specializations. There was also Interplanar magic, but that was largely theoretical.

  “And Milo should keep alert scanning for other minds, especially minds using magic,” Officer Genner said. “In fact, we should all be on guard. We’re retreating to the car and giving a report on the radio at the first sign of magic. This is just an information gathering mission.”

  “No need to give the Cultists any Mages to sacrifice,” Milo muttered darkly.

  I shuddered. Whatever bad feelings lay between us and our history, he wasn’t wrong there.

  “Any other questions?” Genner asked.

  Dr. Hins still had a few more. He was interested in the details around how the body was found and any magical background he was missing.

  I listened absentmindedly, but mostly focused on the view and extending my magical senses. It was a warm, early autumn day here in the Southern Reaches of the Commonwealth. Much warmer than the autumn Lake City weather: the sunlight highlighted the gold leaves of trees just beginning to turn. I could see how it got its lovely reputation. We were close enough to the mountains for some evergreens to join in the mix, and the air smelled fresh and green. It was hard to worry, even with Milo.

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  Genner took one more turn and stopped. We had arrived

  “It’s a little ways off the road,” she informed us as we pushed open our doors. “I don’t want to risk the car.”

  It was one of the new boxy black models, so I was inclined to agree with her. We trudged through the woods on foot. Milo sighed heavily, though maybe that was because this car was the best the precinct had to offer.

  We hiked off into the sunlit woods. There were no signs of magic beside the diffuse magical ambience that came with any area so full of life. I tried not to get too distracted by the hiking, though the ground was rougher and more uneven than the city. Luckily our uniforms came with sturdy boots, though the thick brown jackets were designed with the colder northern weather in mind. Most of us kept up well enough, though I saw Emry stumble a bit.

  “Do you think if I ask Genner for permission she’d let me take off my jacket?” I asked Nalei under my breath.

  I tried to manage a light, friendly tone. It was an old habit to try to be charming, and I could always use another friend.

  I supposedly had a wide network of friends, but Shamora was the only one I could actually speak to about any of the realities of my life. The rest had dropped me after Adain’s death, when my grief moved from self-destructive antics to moping in the memorial garden. They were mostly born Biraleis who I’d been determined to impress for their career connections. In some ways those connections were more trade agreements than friendships. I’d never bothered much to charm other recruited Biraleis, besides Adain.

  Nalei’s mouth pulled sideways into a small sardonic smile. “Maybe if you point out how much you’ll stink up the car on the ride home.”

  Her tone was light, letting the potential insult fall into an invitation for a familiar joke. It had a hint of the deprecating wit that was so popular in Mage Division society. Everything had to be a competition for young Mages, but at least this joke was friendly.

  I made an exaggerated face at her in return, accepting the joke. “I’m not that smelly!”

  She raised her eyebrows at me in an expression of bemused insistence, and I put my hand to my chest in mock-offense. It felt… good, to be playful again.

  “Pay attention!” Genner called back to us.

  I fell back into form, feeling heat creep up my collar. I knew that no matter what I did there would be rumors and gossip about my personal life, but I still tried to make sure everyone knew I was as competent as possible. This was a lapse. Milo snickered audibly.

  “Yeah, no flirting on missions, even if freaks like you can’t get dates at Headquarters,” Milo remarked snidely.

  I just glanced over at him with a cold smile and a knowing look, enough to make him flinch slightly back. He found me a good enough freak to fuck, whatever he said now. Milo looked away. I knew he would; now that he was out of favor with his well-positioned daddy he couldn’t do anything to me. The warmth of my conversation with Nalei was still gone, though, replaced by something cold and sharp in my chest.

  Genner looked back at him sharply, “Unhelpful, Milo. I’ll be speaking to you at the end of the day.”

  Our party settled back into silence. We got to the scene soon after: it was a clearing right on the edge of the trail.

  “No wonder someone found it,” I said. “Doesn’t the Cult usually hide their sacrifices better than this?”

  The dead goat smelled like a dead goat. It buzzed with flies and bits of it seemed to be squirming, especially the flesh that had been wrenched open and exposed to the air. Runes had been carved deeply into the flesh, some of them distinctive from the Division files on the Cult of Tyrants. A rune of power was there, another one related to concentration, and another meant to channel the flow of magic, though that one was oddly cut. The rest meant nothing to me.

  We all paused and concentrated, pulling on our knowledge of magic and well-worn skills to inspect the scene beyond the mundane.

  I tilted my head and changed the way I looked at the world, connecting to the magic within and bringing it to my eyes. Milo, Nalei, and Genner glowed like white-hot iron being pushed into shape while Emry and Dr. Hins’s magics glowed much more mildly, though still more deliberately shaped than the raw magic of the untrained.

  The environment had a soft sparkle of ambient magic that almost faded into the sunlight. There was nothing else, no other active nor residual magic, simply the ordinary forest. Copycat indeed. I gritted my teeth, trying not to feel disappointed.

  “Milo, Emry, go check the perimeter,” Genner announced. She obviously intended to do a thorough job. “I’ll start on my report. You three investigate the body.”

  “I’ll establish an outer perimeter!” Emry said. “You know, check a wide, wide area away from- I mean, around the goat.” He glanced down at the rotting carcass in disgust. Genner gave him a neutral nod while Milo rolled his eyes.

  “I could try to restore the body to its state when it was killed,” Nalei said. “If Izak can help with time magic to determine exactly what that looked like.”

  I nodded approvingly and took out the long knife at my belt. “I’ll carve us a circle for a ritual time-working.”

  Nalei already had a marker out to draw runes on her skin. The doctor looked back and forth between us.

  “Will you need any other materials?” he asked.

  “I don’t,” Nalei said. “How about you, Izak?”

  I didn’t think this would be ingrained magic for either of us, the magic that laced our tattoos and was so practiced we could call on it without any ritual. We’d have to draw runes on our skin and maybe the surrounding environment. We’d make a circle as a defense in case of runaway magic, which had a habit of manifesting as heat and explosion.

  The magic was still firmly within our areas of study, though, which meant we could do it. It took years of study and practice to become familiar with a school of magic enough to use it reliably, but that’s what being a trained Mage was. It was the difference between Mages like us and licensed magic users like Hins. We should be able to do this relatively safely with only runes and a circle to focus us. Relatively safely.

  Worst case scenario, we’d blow up the goat.

  “I’m alright,” I said.

  The doctor nodded, trusting this. I finished the circle and drew runes on my hands to prepare. Mentally, I focused on my understanding of the flow of time and how matter is constantly affected by it and yet cannot touch it. The one-way dimensionality that minds experience and the knowledge that magic is beyond it. I remembered the sensation and form of previous time spells, the way matter remembered and how magic could move in ways matter and mind could not.

  After Dr. Hins got his own initial look at the body, Nalei tenderly brushed a hand over the dead goat. I put my hand over hers. She would cast the alteration spell, and I would guide it through time to revert the goat to an earlier state before decomposition. She let the magic flow.

  I was still mentally preparing to add my part to the spell when the electrical shock sheared across my nerves.

  My whole body seized and spasmed. I fell, barely registering the thuds of the others as the pain flooded into my consciousness; the horrible sharp burning filled me like an engorged balloon. I felt like I would pop, but the sensation kept going.

  It finally stopped and I panted in relief. I pushed my limbs to work, trying to get the raw meat of my body to move like a person again. I propped myself up on my elbows to face the muzzle of a gun.

  Instinctively, I teleported. Unfortunately, the mental state required for a safe, meaningful teleportation was focused calm. I jaggedly shoved magic into the spell without coherent thought.

  The spell took me a disorienting and haphazard ten feet away: straight into another group of men with guns up.

  There was a pop as one of them pulled the trigger.

  Sharp, stinging pain blossomed in my throat. I lifted a hand to my neck and found a dart sticking out, the end needle-thin. I blinked, trying to concentrate, reaching for the magic of teleportation again in my mind.

  Except my head was fuzzy and uncooperative. Things felt like they were moving slow and fast all at once. A strange tingling started in my neck and moved to my face, expanding steadily. Hands reached out for me, grabbing my arms.

  I tried to move, to struggle, and found my limbs unwieldy. I lashed out dizzily, but it didn't seem to do anything.

  Around me shapes moved, people in browns and rough flannels. Large people, mostly men, with guns and coordinated movements. I felt my hands pulled behind my back, pushed into cuffs. I could still feel magic, but trying to concentrate and pull on it was like grabbing water with a pair of tongs. My mind wouldn’t form the right shapes, and I could only slowly and dizzily watch as the strange world unfolded around me.

  I was still aware as they pulled us all up and dragged us to the road. Their hard hands were tense digging into my arms and shoulders; restrained and dizzy as I was, I actually needed help to walk. My legs were increasingly tingly and heavy. Consciousness came only in flashes.

  This didn’t feel like any kind of mind magic I’d known or been able to prepare for. This didn’t feel like magic at all. The Cult was known for being made up of Mages, but in my flashes of coherence I felt only raw little bundles of magic in the men around me like common Non-Mages.

  I was aware of a big boxy black van with its doors already open and waiting. Then there was the cold metal car floor and bodies thumping down beside me as others were shoved in. My entire body was cold and hot at once. Tingling, heavy, and increasingly numb. They slammed the trunk doors shut and all light from the outside world cut off.

  I fell into drugged sleep.